


proxy

by exarite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Cruciatus, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Outsider, Painful Sex, Sadism, can be taken as Same Age AU or Timetravel, up to u
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: Harry bore the brunt of Tom Riddle's anger so the world didn't have to.::At first glance, many assumed it was just sex.And then they saw the tremble in Potter's hands, poorly hidden. They saw the glaze, the blankness of Potter's eyes.And, well. They were all too familiar with the after-effects of a prolonged Crucio.





	proxy

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Proxy 替代（中文翻译）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17450801) by [Elenastor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenastor/pseuds/Elenastor)



> same age AU? Timetravel? Who knows.
> 
> if you're sensitive, please check the tags and end notes for warnings. don't read this if you don't like the themes.
> 
> I just wanted a fic where harry willingly takes on tom's anger in an effort to curb his sadistic side, w a semi-sane, gunning for minister tom riddle, and a morally grey, self-sacrificing in a different way right-hand harry.

_"Haven’t I told you? Killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore. For many months now, my new target… has been you."_

 

*

 

"My boy," Dumbledore said softly. Harry avoided his eyes. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Harry looked up at that and met his gaze, and Dumbledore glimpsed his thoughts skimming and flashing over Tom's hands around his neck, of the ache of his knees, of the bite and pull of Harry's wrists against conjured restraints, of the sting of tears dripping down Harry's cheeks as he pled _no, stop, don't, please Tom._  

Dumbledore flinched, just a bit, and Harry's gaze drifted away.

"No, sir. Nothing."

There was something about young Harry that reminded Dumbledore of himself. There was innate goodness in him, this Dumbledore was sure, a Gryffindor drive for honor, but that wasn't why he looked at Harry and saw a younger, more naïve man in the shape of himself. Was it his love and how enamored he was with someone so dark? Was it the hope that Dumbledore could see in Harry, the hope that his lover would change, would draw away from addiction and obsession?

Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder if he was maybe seeing parallels where there were none. But no, Riddle seemed more and more like Grindelwald, the rise of rumors about the whispered Lord Voldemort and the ripples in the political landscape in the form of Riddle and his followers only confirming Dumbledore's fears. He couldn't help but think that if he was Harry, he would have already drawn away from Tom. The proof of Tom's choices, of how he was irredeemable, it would and should have been enough for Harry to cut off their ties.

But there was no Ariana in their story, no Aberforth. There was nothing, no one to punch sense into Harry, and maybe that made all the difference between them. It took mere months for Dumbledore to fall for Grindelwald's rhetoric, and Riddle had _years_ , their whole Hogwarts education, to sink his claws into Harry's mind, body, and heart, even with Harry in Gryffindor and Tom in Slytherin. And this, this was why he felt achingly responsible for Harry. There was no one to guide Harry back into the Light, but maybe… Maybe Dumbledore could.

"If there's anything you need, Harry," Dumbledore murmured. "You are always welcome in Hogwarts." 

Harry ducked his head. "Thank you, sir."

 

* 

 

_Click._

The door locked. Tom eyed the door, his wand thrumming excitedly in his hand, his throat dry with anticipation. He turned and met expectant green eyes.

"Kneel."

Harry kneeled.

Tom's pupils blew wide, his lips parting.

There was something about seeing Harry like this that just sent Tom's heart racing, pleasure centers lighting up in his brain like a different kind of Crucio. While Tom couldn't deny the pleasure he felt when his lessers kneeled for him, cried, sobbed and begged him for mercy, it was _nothing_ like the thrill of having Harry Potter do the same.

Harry Potter was his equal in every way, and the sight of his willing submission, of Tom's visible, undeniable power over him, it was worth thousands of other men and women. He would, and he _did_ give up--almost entirely--causing pain towards Muggles and mudbloods, all in exchange for this. 

Harry Potter's mind and body, entirely his.

He stalked towards the kneeling man, his wand loose in his hand as his eyes roved over Harry's still clothed form. Harry kept his head up, his gaze straight in front of him, still so willful even as he knelt prostate before Tom. _This_ was what sent Tom's heart racing. Even in a position of submission, even when Harry knew of the pain that would come, he still managed to hold his head up high.

He wasn't kneeling for Tom because he was afraid, or weak. He did it because Tom wanted him to. That was the true power Tom held over him, and the rush of it was heady in his veins, sending a smug smile across his face. 

His hand flexed around his wand, and with a flick of his wrist, Harry's clothes were Banished.

Harry shifted, his shoulders tightening as his skin was exposed to the cool air. Tom exhaled, his eyes greedy as he took in Harry's naked form, the lines of his waist and his shoulders, and the softness of his cock in between his thighs. He wasn't hard. He never was, this early.

Tom played with the length of his wand, fingers caressing the wood as he assessed Harry's tense, expectant form. A cruel smile spread over his lips. He pointed his wand at Harry, so vulnerable in front of him, and then almost lovingly he crooned, the words passing through his lips like a lover's kiss. 

"Crucio." 

Harry screamed.

 

*

 

They could hear nothing of what was happening from behind the door, but none of their Lord's inner circle was ignorant.

Better him than them. Even those friendly with Potter would prefer not to be the ones to face Lord Voldemort's wrath at not getting his way.

Their Dark Marks burned briefly, a summon, and all of them instantly straightened. The door clicked open.

Potter sat at the Dark Lord's right-hand side, as was his usual, and at first glance, there was no evidence as to the full extent of the events that had just happened. The bruises stark purple against his tan neck in the shape of fingerprints, the impressions of teeth and suck marks that branded him, the ginger way Potter held himself in his seat, shifting slightly, and even his occasional limp after their meetings… 

At first glance, many would assume it was just sex.

And then they'd see the tremble in Potter's hands, poorly hidden. They'd see the glaze, the blankness of Potter's eyes.

And, well. They were all too familiar with the after-effects of a prolonged Crucio.

 

*

 

There were tears dripping down Harry's lovely face and Tom smiled. He crouched down beside the prone body on the floor, Harry having long collapsed under the throes of the Cruciatus Curse. Drool pooled on the wood beneath him, faint tremors still wracking Harry's naked body.

"Oh, darling," he murmured, using the end of his wand to lift up Harry's lolling head. Harry's eyelids fluttered open, his green eyes glassy and unfocused as they tried and failed to latch and hold onto Tom's own. "You've made a mess."

Tom's laughter came out in short bursts of hisses, his red eyes glinting as he pulled away. Harry's head immediately dropped back down when Tom pulled away, his muscles still weak. 

"Don't be lazy. Kneel, Harry." 

Harry's lips parted and he blinked furiously, eyes darting back and forth. Tom waited patiently, stroking his wand as he observed Harry struggle to get up. He was reminded of a baby colt, Harry's limbs trembling as he pushed himself up from his position on the floor. Minutes passed before Harry could finally settle back on his legs, his kneel this time much less proud than earlier.

And yet, his eyes were still bright, barely aware as they were, and Tom sighed in pleasure. 

Tom stepped in closer towards his lover until his legs framed Harry's form. He basked in the sight, his length already hard and straining, his eyes transfixed on the glimmer of tears that threatened to fall from Harry's eyes.

He pushed aside his robes and pulled out his cock, nudging it against Harry's slack lips, his hips thrusting forwards as Harry opened up for him so easily. His hand found its way into Harry's hair, the dark mess of it stark against Tom's pale fingers, and Harry made a soft noise as Tom tightened his grip and kept his head steady.

"Get it wet. That's all you'll get." 

Harry's jaw slackened, just enough, and Tom smirked. His thrusts turned unforgiving as Tom continued to fuck into Harry's mouth, the dull sound of his cock hitting the back of Harry's throat filling the room. Harry choked at his length, tiny gurgles escaping him as he struggled for air, the tears that had rimmed his eyes finally falling. 

Tom moaned at the sight and yanked Harry closer towards him until Harry's nose was brushing against his wiry pubes, until Harry's throat was spasming deliciously around his dick, until Harry's hands were pushing, weak and futile at his hips, his nails scratching as he struggled around the lack of air.

Tom released him and Harry pulled off with a gasp, heaving in breaths like he was dying. He coughed and grasped at his naked chest, wheezing slightly, cheeks flushed a lovely red. Tom drank in the sight of him, inhaling sharply as Harry’s eyes flicked upwards.

"Beautiful," he declared.

 

*

 

"Rosier. An update." Lord Voldemort's voice was cool, his red eyes narrowed. His giant snake was curled up on his shoulders, his free hand stroking her gleaming green scales languidly. Rosier swallowed. 

"I have been… unsuccessful at gathering sufficient blackmail on Fawley." 

The Dark Lord's nostrils flared, his hand pausing in its easy glide down Nagini's back, and Rosier tensed. The Dark Lord had been moving towards the next stage of their slow political takeover, and part of that included taking out political rivals that wouldn't side with them through any possible way.

His eyes flicked over to the right of Lord Voldemort, a desperate, unplanned notion. One far too revealing. 

Harry met his eyes straight on. Bored. Placid. Indifferent. His savior complex used to have him interfering often with Lord Voldemort's punishments, taking it on himself as a proxy in the privacy of their rooms. (Never in front of them, no. None of them in Lord Voldemort's eyes deserved to see Potter brought low, except Lord Voldemort himself.) Now though, Potter had learned to pick out the ones he deemed worthy enough to be a human shield for.

Rosier flinched, his fists clenched tight against his robes. His shoulders slumped with a rising resignation as he accepted whatever fate Lord Voldemort had in mind for him.

Either Potter didn't care enough to interfere, leaving him to the tender mercies of their Lord, or the Dark Lord would see past his failings and let him off with a relatively easy punishment.

The sound of their Lord's hissing laughter filled the room and Rosier stiffened. He quickly averted his eyes away from Potter and kept his head down, the ball in his throat rising along with the urge to bare his neck like a downed dog.

"Dear Harry isn't your savior." Lord Voldemort spoke slowly, each syllable clearly enunciated. Amusement tinged his words. Beside him, Potter's lips thinned.

"You are lucky that I am…" Lord Voldemort trailed off, tilting his head, his locks shifting as his lips curled up into a cruel smile. " _merciful._ "

The tension in the room eased, Rosier's shoulders loosening as he held in his sigh of relief. There would be no punishment for him tonight.

"But unfortunately, some missteps cannot be forgiven."

The tense atmosphere instantly shifted back into place, a heavy weight over the gathered shoulders of the Death Eaters.

Potter shifted, an almost imperceptible movement, and Lord Voldemort's smile widened into a gruesome grin.

"Travers," he crooned, "Where were you last Saturday?"

 

*

 

Harry stared up at him, the epitome of debauched. His lips were swollen, his hair even more of a mess than usual, and there were dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

Tom steadily met his eyes and then— 

He held out his bone-white wand, phoenix feather and yew, a twin to Harry’s own.

A pause. A beat where Harry simply breathed, a moment of meaningful silence between them. Then, with trembling hands, Harry reached out and accepted it.

Harry had all the power now. Tom’s wand responded to Harry almost as well as his own now, and Harry could do anything with it. And yet…

“Get on the bed,” Tom ordered.

Harry licked his lips. His gaze was clearer now. Still muddy from the Cruciatius, but he looked alert enough to stand up with only a little wobbling.

The two of them were silent as Harry spread himself over the bed, his legs parted, exposing himself to Tom's hungry gaze, and Tom couldn't help but hum appreciatively. Harry swallowed, tilting his head back and exposing the tempting line of his throat, the suck marks that Tom had left only days before.

Slowly, Harry brought his arms up to the headboard, Tom's wand still in his hand. His arms were bare from the Dark Mark, the only thing to mar his skinny wrists a ring of bruises in the shape of fingers. Tom could wrap his hands around them and find them to fit perfectly.

To those outside the Knights of Walpurgis, maybe some would wonder why Harry Potter, who stayed by Tom Riddle's side, did not bear the Dark Mark, why there was no snake and skull marking him as one of Lord Voldemort's loyal servants.

They were fools, Tom thought as he hitched Harry's thighs up to his chest, slotting himself below Harry. He pushed inside with a sharp thrust and groaned at the tightness, enraptured by the flicker of pain on Harry's features at the friction, at the immediate stretch and the lack of lubrication.

He reached up and wrapped his fingers around Harry's throat, his pupils blown wide with arousal as he squeezed, hard enough that Harry would feel it the next day and everyone would see.

"Tell me," Tom rasped.

Harry's eyelids fluttered, little pained gasps escaping him as Tom fucked into him, literally fucked him open raw. Tom lightened his grip around Harry's throat and Harry sucked in air, his face contorting.

" _Tell me_ ," Tom demanded, his voice a low hiss.

"I’m yours, my lord."

Tom grinned savagely.

Harry already bore his marks.

 

*

 

Travers paled. He looked like he was about to be sick, and Lord Voldemort looked gleeful.

"My… My Lord," Travers rasped helplessly. "I was--"

" _Crucio_." 

Travers screamed, falling to his knees, and the gathered crowd stayed silent. This wasn't just punishment for Travers. It was a lesson to them.

"Our goal is complete separation from Muggles. It is difficult to stay under if you're being an _idiot_ , kidnapping and torturing them for fun during your free time," Lord Voldemort said snidely. There was none of his so-called mercy, yet there was no hatred or anger either. Only a mild sort of annoyance and a sadistic pleasure at Travers' pain as he shook and sobbed.

"We are in a delicate position right now, and it is difficult to maneuver the Ministry into place when people like you are fucking it up."

Long ago, in a different world maybe, their Lord would have relished in the mere thought of putting Muggles in their proper place. But in that time, or in that world, Potter wouldn't have given Lord Voldemort a subtle, almost unseen nod of approval. 

"There has been a change of plans. I will not be pursuing the Defense position in Hogwarts, and will instead focus on rising through the Ministry ranks as I have already been doing," Lord  Voldemort continued. 

"And Harry," Lord Voldemort continued, tilting his head towards Potter, silent and waiting. "Will have the honor instead."

 

*

 

"Please… don't," Harry whispered, tears leaking out of his eyes. He twisted his body away from Tom, a pained whimper escaping him.

Tom ignored him and tightened his grip, biting down on the meat of Harry's inner thigh, right where it was most sensitive. Harry jerked, crying out in pain and Tom grinned. 

"Stop--Tom, stop--please," Harry sobbed as Tom fucked into him harder, pleasure racing up his spine at the slick of blood on his teeth and on Harry's thigh. He did nothing but continue to take what he wanted from Harry's body.

He didn't stop, he ignored Harry's pleas, Harry's pain only exciting him more. They had no concept of safewords but Harry's _choice_ to be vulnerable, to lay himself at the mercy of Tom's sadism, and if Harry truly wanted Tom to stop, a simple stinging spell or a spark of color from the tip of Tom's wand would be enough for Tom. 

And yet, even as Harry continued to beg Tom _no, stop, please don't_ , the yew and phoenix feather laid lax in his grip, unused.

 

*

 

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry breathed. Dumbledore gave him a kind smile and motioned towards the seat. Harry took it.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, and Harry's eyes darted towards the bowl filled with yellow sweets before he shook his head quickly, a little nervously, before he raised his gaze up to meet Dumbledore's.

A gentle probe was all Dumbledore needed, Harry's mind an open book. 

_"Crucio."_

_Harry screamed._

"You said, sir, that I'm always welcome in Hogwarts," Harry said. He swallowed. "Would that include a job in the Defense position?" 

 

*

 

Beside him, Tom burned. His expression was placid, a carefully blank, controlled mask held tight over the anger simmering inside of him, so close to the surface that Harry could _feel_ it.

"Tom," Harry tried tentatively and Tom sent him a glare, breaking his façade of calm, his burgundy eyes dangerous.

"Quiet, Harry."

Harry swallowed. His jaw tightened and he quickened his pace to keep up with Tom's long legs as he stalked down Hogwart's halls, robes billowing behind him, a predator caged in human skin. Tom's magic was a physical weight bearing down over them, crackling with his restrained anger. It was only the constant exposure over the years that made Harry able to stand tall even underneath its suffocating presence.

"Tom." Harry tried again. He was hesitant to break the silence between them, but he knew Tom would only be angrier later if he didn't bother. This was an admittedly lousy attempt at cooling Tom's anger, but really, Tom didn't keep him around so he could talk about his feelings.

Tom's fists clenched, his mask cracking once more as he bared his teeth, his eyes taking on an inhuman glint that was enough to send a few students scurrying away from the heat of it. 

Harry inwardly sighed. That was enough. He grabbed Tom's arm and yanked him into the next alcove, unsurprised when Tom immediately had his wand in hand and shoved up to Harry's jaw, the tip digging into his flesh.

They stared at each other, Tom's eyes wild with his dark anger and Harry's defiant and strong even faced with Lord Voldemort's ire.

"You're angry," Harry stated calmly. He reached up and gently held onto Tom's hand, still gripped tight around yew and phoenix feather. "Take it out on me."

Tom's eyes bore into his, eerily intense in the way that only Tom could be, seeking and searching for something that would show Harry's sincerity. Even now, even after all the times they found themselves in this very same position, with Harry offering to be a proxy of Tom's anger, Tom still made sure if Harry was truly willing. He seemed to find his proof, either in the surface of Harry's mind through Legilimency, or maybe he found it just by the look in Harry's eyes.

He pushed Harry away and Harry stumbled back, righting himself with a hand to the wall. Tom turned his back on him, his shoulders tight with tension. Harry waited.

Tom let out a long, low breath and straightened up.

"Tell the others not to wait," he ordered brusquely. He didn't look at Harry. "We're going ahead."

 

*

 

There was little that Tom owned. He was poor. He was an orphan. Everything he owned, Dumbledore had set on fire once.

And so this, Harry prone beside him, his breathing shallow, his lips parted as he fell into an exhausted sleep… Tom stroked his bangs away from his sweaty face, gentle now, a vast difference from his earlier cruelty. The rage and the ravenous lust that had consumed him earlier wasn't gone, but it was muted in the face of Harry so soft before him.

It was mellowed. A raging fire cooled momentarily, the eye of the storm before it built up once more. Tom exhaled. He didn't love the man sleeping in his bed, didn't quite know if he'll ever be able to really love _,_ but… Harry was _his_.

He took his wand from Harry's slack grip and got to work. A cleaning spell to scrub away the tacky come and the sweat, a summoning spell for potions that would ease but not fully heal the pain of sore muscles, and finally an Episkey on the split skin from his earlier, overenthusiastic bites.

There was little that Tom used to own, and so he learned.

What he did own, he took care of. 

**Author's Note:**

> from outsider POV, it looks bad and rape-y, but it's fully consensual between them. i tried to make the dynamic between them subtle, how harry has just as much power over Tom (in his decisions, in how the BDSM shit would stop if Harry truly wanted), but idk if it was too subtle or too blatant. if there's something i missed out on tagging, please let me know!!!!
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](senju-sandwich.tumblr.com), but it's mostly naruto lmao


End file.
